


Stealing Fate

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22184599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: Grief can be terrible, especially consideringwhat might have been.Can magic fix everything?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52
Collections: BuckyNat Secret Santa 2019





	Stealing Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MedeaV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedeaV/gifts).



"You sure about this?"

Bucky looked over at Sam with a weariness that spoke volumes. While he was in a leather jacket and leather gloves to hide his silver arm, he felt horribly exposed. Instinct screamed at him that he would be seen, he would be _known,_ and he would be punished for everything that had been outside of his power to do. His hair was cut short now; long hair couldn't hide his face from any facial recognition software after all, so there was no point keeping it in his eyes or wrecking his peripheral vision on occasion.

Carrying a bouquet of red and pink roses, he nodded at Sam. It felt wrong somehow to drag Sam after him on his stupid quest, but that was Sam for you. He was the epitome of friendship and duty at once. He had gone after Steve much as Bucky had back in the day, and now that Steve had essentially excised himself from the hero game, it almost felt as though Bucky had to rise up into the vacuum left behind when Sam took his place. Sam was the new Captain America, but Captain America always had people at his back.

Let's hear it for Captain America, indeed.

"If it's too painful," Sam began carefully.

"I have to do this," Bucky said, voice hoarser than he thought it would be. Yes, this hurt, it tore his heart out and he didn't even fully understand why, but he knew that he had to do this. Pain didn't matter. It was all in the mind, and he had control over his mind these days. That was a luxury he didn't have in the past.

He walked through the aisles of perfectly arranged headstones, the lush grass far too green for comfort. There was nothing in this place that seemed to be comforting, actually. Rows of stones with carvings, etching and embellishments of various kinds, and one or two aboveground mausoleums where the dead were interred. Cemeteries never bothered him before, and had often been a favorite haunt while waiting for dead drops when he had been the Winter Soldier. Right now, however, he hated being here, and his skin crawled.

**Natasha Romanoff  
** 1984 – 2023  
_She was better than we deserved  
And we will never know by how much._

"She would have hated this," Bucky said, bending over to lay the flowers down in front of the headstone. "You'd think Steve would've known that."

"I think it's safe to say that we don't really know Steve as well as we used to."

Bucky stood up and heaved a sigh. "That punk thought he knew what he was doing. Figured he would let us out from under his shadow."

"You should've talked him out of it."

His laughter had a bitter and lost edge to it. "You tried doing that before, right?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah. But we both know that's like beating your head into a brick wall." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "So what's the plan?" When Bucky swung around to glare at him, he shrugged unapologetically and kept a bland expression on his face. "I think you're done moping."

"I'm not moping."

There was no need to really respond to that, so Sam only nodded back toward the car before he started walking. Bucky usually needed a moment more at the gravestone, though he never could have explained _why._ Something pulled at him, and the sense that it wasn't fair was only a small part of it. Life wasn't fair, he knew that, but it was also true that fate had done Natasha so dirty and never gave her a chance to have the neat finale that other heroes got.

"I'm not moping," Bucky said, staring at the headstone. He shoved his hands into his pockets in the same way that Sam had done, but he balled his hands into fists. Shoulders tight and head bowed, Bucky closed his eyes. He remembered Natasha in a vague kind of way, the interactions at Wakanda, the battle before everything dissolved into ash. She was always so strong in front of others, and hid the vulnerable side of herself until she was alone. It had been drilled into her at the Red Room, and he knew what it had felt like. Few would ever be able to see through that to know how she actually felt.

"You deserved better. You _still_ deserve better."

He thought of the few startled smiles that he had seen, the way she had looked off at sunsets along the empty plain when she had visited. _Become everything we always knew you could be,_ she had said when he asked what he should do in Wakanda. There had been such grace and forgiveness in that response, and the world should know she was capable of that as well. All they knew was that she led the Avengers, that she moved behind the scenes to keep them safe and had monitored their wellbeing.

"I'm going to bring you back."

It startled him when he heard his voice aloud, but Bucky knew this was true. In a world of magic and monsters and all kinds of mysteries, there had to be a way to bring her back so she could see everything she had worked so hard for.

Smiling, he joined Sam back at the car.

***

The option of going back in time and snatching Natasha back from the brink of death was tempting, but it would be next to impossible to do it without undoing everything that happened once the soul stone was obtained. Bucky fully admitted that the mechanics of time travel were beyond him, and Sam didn't have a clue either. FRIDAY wouldn't disclose the notes or engineering tactics that Tony had used; apparently he had commanded her to lock it away so that no one else would go messing about with the flow of time. The platforms and suits were still available, but no Pym particles.

Sam suggested discussing the matter with Wanda, whom he had been on the run with for a period of time. Following the battle at the Avengers compound, she had drifted aimlessly for a while, not as interested in becoming an Avenger again. No one forced the issue; there was so much to be done in repairing the damage done, and adjusting to everyone being back from the blip. Much of the time, there weren't even Avengers-level threats to counter anyway.

Wanda was living alone in an apartment building and had a haunted look about her when Sam and Bucky showed up. That expression didn't really change as Bucky haltingly picked through his thought process to bring Natasha back to life.

"We don't have a body. Clint couldn't bear to bring it with him, and it wasn't there later." Her expression remained flat. "Not that you would want a zombie, but it helps to have an anchor of some kind if we do this."

"So you're not opposed?" Bucky said, unable to hide the hopeful note in his voice.

"If this is going to happen, it should be done the right way." Wanda bit her lip. "I don't know if it's possible. Or if there's even a right way. But I'd like to try."

Leaning forward, Bucky grasped her hands in his. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Don't thank me yet," she sighed, shoulders slumped a bit. "It may not even work."

"But for even trying. For wanting to. For not saying I'm crazy."

Wanda's smile at him was so sad it made him want to cry. "No, it's not crazy to want to bring back a loved one. I understand that feeling."

Oh, yes, he could feel her own grief coming off in waves. "If I could help you, I would."

Her eyes glittered. "I know. Now let's see if I can actually even do anything."

"Whatever you can do, I'll be grateful for," Bucky murmured.

"I think I know how to do this," Wanda told Bucky. She moved about her small apartment to pour them both cups of chai tea. Bucky hated it because that reminded him of Natasha, but he didn't have the heart to tell her so.

"Think," he said instead."

"There are potential futures I can borrow from," she said apologetically. She picked up her cup and sipped at the tea, not saying anything about the untouched one in front of him.

"Does that mess up the timelines?" Bucky asked, frowning. "There was a _lot_ of talk in the debrief about maintaining the timelines."

"The timeline I would draw from would never be. It would be rescuing her from a collapsing timeline."

"But you don't know for certain."

"No, I don't."

Bucky leaned back in his chair. "So you'd be practicing on Natasha to see if it works. To get Vision back."

Wanda met his gaze without flinching. "The thought had occurred to me, yes." She remained unapologetic about it, and Bucky couldn't blame her, either.

"Is it safe for you to do it?"

"Nothing is safe in a broken timeline—"

"Not that," he said, making a slashing hand motion to cut her off. "I mean for _you._ Because magic isn't free, and something as big as this sure as hell ain't cheap."

Her stern expression softened. "I'll be okay."

"Because you want it to work. Because then you get what you want back, too."

Wanda nodded slowly. "There's never enough time."

His expression softened and his gaze turned inward. "No, there isn't. Not for us."

"Remember her," Wanda murmured. She leaned forward, hands reaching for him, fingertips red with growing magic. "Then I can find the possibilities."

"She was your friend, too."

"Yes," Wanda acknowledged. "But there was also much that I never knew about her. You'd know more than me."

She wasn't wrong on that point. Shared life experience was hard to come by for much of Natasha's early history. Natasha would never willingly share all of her secrets with others. Bucky had been part of them, and created all new ones with her.

He nodded solemnly and let Wanda's magic envelop him. "All right. I'll remember for you."

***

Natasha sat beside him in Wakanda, looking over at the sunset over the lake. Bucky had been in the loose grassland tribe robes, hair loose and wavy. She had left her tactical armor and gear at the palace, and was in similarly loose robes. Leaning against him, their hands overlapped. Neither had said anything in some time, but it was companionable silence.

As the sun slipped beneath the lake's edge, Natasha sighed in contentment. "It's been too long since I could appreciate a view like this."

"Simple sunsets?"

"Yeah." She turned to him with a smile on her face as brilliant as the sun that has just set. "I don't get quiet often."

Bucky smirked at her. "Not that we plan on _staying_ quiet."

Her laughter was whole hearted, a gift that he didn’t' receive very often. "And less chance of complaints around here."

"Yeah, I don't think the goats'll mind it much."

"Much!" she echoed with false indignation.

"Not that they told me, anyway," he answered with a grin.

Launching herself at him, they laughed and tumbled in the grass. It quickly turned to kissing, groping and caressing. The loose robes made it even easier to do, and they made wonderful blankets to lie on when undone. Soon enough they were making love under the stars, not even the goats as witnesses. They were reckless and tender, wild yet soft. These were stolen moments, and they had to make it last. Every second counted. Each touch was the weight of a thousand caresses. Each kiss was like a hundred thousand. There wasn't enough time, never enough time, and they'd have to make do with whatever they could steal.

In the morning, she'd be gone again, off on another hunt. She asked him once if he wanted to join them, complete their band of outlaws.

"I've fought enough."

"Fair," she acknowledged with a smile. "You deserve the rest. But the offer had to be made. It has to be _your_ choice."

He chose and chose and chose until the choice was taken out of his hands in the form of a vibranium arm.

Bucky always though he'd lose her, that he wasn't good enough to ever keep her. It never occurred to him that perhaps she would lose him.

Theirs had never been a love story with a happy ending.

***

"I'm sorry," Wanda murmured. Her tea was all gone. His had gone cold, but he never drank it anyway. "For making you remember," she clarified at his blank look.

"It's okay." It was, of a sort. At least he could remember it. At least it hadn't been taken away.

She shook her head. "We weren't really friends before..."

"Never seemed a good time to talk." Steve. Natasha. Bucky hadn't spent much time with Sam, but it had been more than with Wanda. Sam had wanted to make sure that Steve would be safe. He'd already seen the damage that Bucky could do.

Red magic pulsed between them, hovering and giving Bucky the impression that it was uncertain. Or waiting.

"I hope this improves." Wanda looked down at her empty cup, expression forlorn. "Most don't understand. Or want to."

"Hurts losing," Bucky agreed. "But forgetting hurts worse."

"Like a thousand small cuts every day," Wanda agreed.

Let out a soft breath, Bucky nodded slowly. The corner of his mouth quirked. "We used to say that I was the hammer, she was the blade."

Wanda's smile was profoundly sad. "We were only weapons to them, weren't we?"

"Sorry I didn't go with you all to hunt down Hydra."

"We did good," Wanda replied with a small smile.

Bucky stared at the ball of magic. "What's it waiting for?"

"Are you ready?" Wanda asked.

Sam was keeping watch outside, still not entirely comfortable with magic of this magnitude. Then again, he was only barely comfortable with Bucky right then. Too many terrors in the night, too many missing pieces in the puzzle of their lives.

"Yeah," Bucky rasped. "Let's bring Natalia home."

***

Sam looked up from his book when Bucky exited the building, closing the door behind him. He eased off the wall and took in Bucky's slumped shoulders. His eyes skipped past him to the shut door, and he frowned. "Uh. I thought she'd help you."

"She did." Bucky's voice was flat, his expression lifeless.

"What?" Sam asked, approaching him slowly. "What happened?"

"Wanda pulled through. Natasha apparently didn't want to come back."

The book fell out of Sam's hand. Wordlessly, Sam pulled Bucky into a tight embrace. "Hey. Hey. I'm sorry, man."

Bucky initially was stiff, but softened under Sam's insistent embrace. After a moment, he broke out into wracking sobs, grasping hold of Sam as the only solid thing in the world for him.

All Sam could do was hold on.

***

Feeling defeated, Bucky refused to let Sam enter his apartment with him. "I know you want to be alone right now. But call me if anything changes. Don't do anything stupid."

 _You're taking all the stupid with you,_ Steve had told him once upon a time. Lifetimes ago.

This was Sam, he wouldn't understand. He was reckless at times but not willfully stupid, so the joke would fall flat and turn into a pained insult. Instead of saying anything, Bucky only nodded grimly and watched him drive away.

Upon actually entering his apartment, Bucky froze. He wasn't alone.

Natasha was sitting on his couch, calmly reading one of his books.

His mouth opened and shut in shock, and Natasha gently laughed at him. "Oh, come on. You wished for this."

"You know?"

She put the book aside and stood. "Yes. Vaguely, I remember the pull of magic just when I was taking a bullet to the chest. I didn't have a vest, so I can only assume that I was pulled at the moment of death." She walked forward, the same sway of her hips and smirk of her lips that he remembered. Mouth dry, he could only watch helplessly. If she was some kind of evil alternate version of Natasha sent to kill him, he was making himself an easy target.

Sliding a hand up to cup his face, her expression softening as she took in his dumbfounded shock, she smiled sadly. "You lost me here."

"Yeah," Bucky said, voice hoarse as he gently took in a lock of her red hair and curled it around her finger. "You... The you that was here sacrificed herself. I couldn't... You had to see that it worked. That we won."

Both hands cupped his face now. "And you couldn't let me go."

"No. I'm sorry."

Her smile was the illuminated one that reminded him of the Wakandan sunrise. "Don't be. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Bucky chuckled. "I guess."

"So, thank you for that."

"Can I...?" he asked hesitantly, hands hovering over her hips. He searched her expression intently, and relaxed at her nod. When he touched her, breath whooshed out of him. She felt the same. She smiled the same. She sounded the same. Even if she was an alternate timeline Natasha, not exactly his own, it was _Natasha._

"I lost my version of you, James," she said, pain lacing her husky voice. "So I know how you feel right now. I'm feeling it, too."

"Hopeless, aren't we?" he whispered.

Natasha let her fingers trail over the skin of his cheeks, the stubble rasping against her palms. "I would prefer to think that we're the one comfort we allowed each other, no matter what the past tried to throw at us."

"How very practical of you."

She laughed. "You've always been so much in love."

"It's you. Of course I was."

"And I've always loved you."

"Even if I'm not _your_ James?"

She ran her hand down along his metal arm and lifted it up. "Different color, but the same kind of thing. The way you move, the way you respond to me... You were in Department X, too. Your version of me was in the Red Room." Bucky nodded for both assumptions. "So our worlds really weren't that dissimilar at all."

"Looks like it wasn't," he agreed. His breath was coming up fast and short, his heart hammering in his chest. This was _Natasha._

Their instincts definitely were in the same wavelength, even if they were from different universes entirely. They kissed, desperation and longing in it. Her hands wound through his hair, tugging and scratching at his scalp until he could lift her up a bit. They stumbled about a bit until they fell over one of the ratty couches he had rescued from the curb. Laughing, Bucky didn't even care about the stinging in his shin and elbow. She was laughing just as much, rubbing her arm with her eyes twinkling. "We're ridiculous."

"Completely," Bucky agreed with her.

Natasha had such love in her eyes when she looked at him. "I'm looking forward to figuring out how you're different from my James."

"And how you're different from my Natalia."

The devilish look in her eyes was achingly familiar and set his blood on fire. She wasn't terribly different at all, and he probably wasn't too different from her version of Bucky, either.

He'd tell Wanda later that the spell worked after all. There was time enough for that after they got thoroughly acquainted with each others' naked bodies. Thank god for magic, he thought, leaning in for another kiss.

The End


End file.
